


Because You're Mine

by ElliHelm



Series: Inevitable [1]
Category: Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enemies to Lovers, Episode: s01e07 Zoey's Extraordinary Confession, F/M, Height Differences, Making Out, Masterful Seduction by Leif Donnelly, The Conference Table Has Seen Some Things™
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:54:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24691867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElliHelm/pseuds/ElliHelm
Summary: Zoey isn't sure she'd call this inevitable, but it does feel like they've been on this path for a while, hurtling through crossroads until they had no choice but to end up here at this moment.
Relationships: Zoey Clarke/Leif Donnelly
Series: Inevitable [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1785943
Comments: 23
Kudos: 40





	Because You're Mine

**Author's Note:**

> I would just like to go on record saying that I was enabled and that this turned into a much longer monstrosity than I ever expected it to be.
> 
> Anyways, I'm back again with a somewhat unexpected pairing for me this time. This was a canon redux that wouldn't leave my dumb multi-shipping head, so I eventually just decided I'd have to write it myself. It's steamy and rambly and one hundred percent self indulgent. Also completely unbeta'd aside from me ignoring absolutely EVERY instance of Grammarly telling me to delete unnecessary words. I do what I want.
> 
> This could turn into a series of one-shots if there's demand and muse for it. I already can't help but look at the Let's Stay Together number without imagining Leif singing to Zoey instead, and that's pretty much how this fic started out as. We'll see what happens. In the meanwhile, enjoy the Zeif!

“You know something?” she muses, looking up from her laptop to an unfamiliarly friendly face. “I think you might have something real.”

“Something real and _impressive_ ,” Leif agrees, smiling, and Zoey isn’t sure if she should be _pleased_ that they’re actually agreeing on something for once or _annoyed_ that he’s taken the obvious opportunity to brag about himself. “This could be a game-changer.”

In the end, she goes with _pleased_. He isn’t wrong — the work he’s done on the Chirp with her and Joan in the past few days is nothing short of impressive, and with the SPRQPoint tech behind it, it very well could be _revolutionary_. Also, she’d been the one to compliment him first. It wouldn’t exactly be fair to fault him for taking it and running with it.

Not that she’d ever had a problem with being unfair to him _before_ , of course. But in the spirit of working together and actually working together _well_ …

“We should start looping in the rest of the team tomorrow. I think fresh eyes would help,” she suggests, and there’s a wistfulness in her tone that she isn’t expecting to hear. Is she actually... _disappointed_ that they’re not going to be working on it one-on-one anymore?

It’s a strange feeling, but not one that she can claim is entirely unexpected after working so closely together. Leif is _brilliant_. Zoey’s always known that. She’d even admitted that to him when she first became team manager. What she _hasn’t_ always known, particularly since her power had revealed his ‘ _relentless drive to win at all costs_ ,’ however, is that they actually make a pretty good team. Settling into a rhythm working with each other had been easier than she expected, and it also hadn’t involved _nearly_ as much fighting as she’d first feared when Joan looped her in over the weekend to take over because of a last-minute emergency. 

“Um, you know, I just want to say, Zoey, I have had a _blast_ working on this project with you,” he says earnestly. It’s such an unexpected compliment, _especially_ from him, and Zoey can feel the flush that rushes to her cheeks in response that she tries to hide with a shaky smile and a duck of her head so that her hair falls in her face.

“You know, I could not agree more,” she says. It isn’t _actually_ as much of an empty compliment as it sounds. Working with Leif — and like… actually working _with_ him and not _against_ him — has been an unexpectedly _great_ experience. They work well together when they’re not competing against each other or trying to undermine one another. _Who’d have thunk?_ So really, even though it _sounds_ like she’s just hollowly regurgitating the sentiment back to him, she _isn’t_. She just... can’t think of anything _better_ to say either.

“No, really, I mean it,” he insists, and the boyish grin when he laughs is one she’d fallen for many times before her power had revealed his inner motivation and one she can feel herself falling for now. _Maybe he really_ does _mean it_. If the past weekend has proven anything, it’s that he isn’t _actually_ the worst. At least, not always. “You're intelligent, dynamic, creative... _beautiful_.”

 _Whoa whoa whoa. Wait..._ **_what_** _?!_

When she looks up at Leif again her cheeks have reddened more, framing her shocked expression nicely. _She’s an open book for him_. Her _surprise_ , of course, is evident. As is, unfortunately, how _flustered_ his compliments make her. _He, however, is_ not _an open book_. Leif’s expression is as unreadable as ever, and the moment where their eyes meet but neither of them say anything is long and heavy until an unfamiliar melody starts to break the silence.

 _Oh no. Oh no, no, no. Not right now. Please,_ **_not right now_** _._

_I put a spell on you_

‘ _A spell_ ’ is certainly one way to put it. She feels rooted in place as she listens to this particular heart song, helpless to do anything but watch the slow but sure movements that Leif makes as he sings. (To _her_? She can only assume he must be given the conversation they’d just been having, but it doesn’t make sense. He’d never given any indication of having feelings for her _before_ , so why now? _What angle was he playing at?_ )

_Because you're mine_

Zoey catches the movement out of the corner of her eye. How he goes from leaning down the width of the conference table to towering behind her in one smooth move, framing her left arm with his body. His breath is hot on her neck for a long, torturous moment. His voice is silky and — _strange_ as it is for her to admit it — _seductive_ in her ear, dragging out the line in a way that sends a shiver through her. Or maybe it’s the proximity that does it.

It’s odd, how being the focus of such an intricately choreographed number has her frozen in place. Usually, she’s free to react and move around during a heart song, but this one seems intent on forcing her to be a passive player, experiencing the full effect of having no control at all, even in a moment only she is privy to. The experience is somehow all the more _intimate_ because of it, and though they’re not actually _touching_ each other right now, she finds herself wishing they _were_.

 _God, what was he doing to her?_ She’d never even _thought_ of him like this before now (and no, passing thoughts that he looked cute in his cardigans did not count, inner Max _shut up_!), but here she was, at his mercy as he unknowingly seduced her through song. _Maybe it was just the heart song. A byproduct of her power and nothing more. Maybe._ **_Maybe_** _._

_Stop the things you do_

She’s acutely aware of the moment where he pulls away from her, but the movement of the chair is practically silent until he rolls back into view, propping his feet up onto the conference table with a thoughtful but smoldering look as he sings the next lyric. _Things?_ _What_ things _exactly is she doing, besides her_ job _?_ she wonders, matching his heated but thoughtful expression as she watches him intently. 

Heart song or not, right now, he has her hook, line, and sinker.

 _Watch out_ _  
_ _I ain't lyin'_

The dark overtone to his laugh before these lines should honestly fill her with more trepidation than it _does_. More _suspicion_. Even the lyric ‘ _I ain’t lyin’_ ’ should ring _false_ because who needs to say ( _sing?_ ) something like that when they’re _not_ lying, but it _doesn’t_. Leif is almost certainly up to something outside of this heart song, but there’s also some truth to… whatever the hell this is. 

In her head, he’s singing to her. Around her. Behind her. Matching every beat of the song with movements that seem graceful even on his lanky, leggy body. _What does reality look like?_ Has their conversation continued? Is he rambling off more compliments that she hasn’t yet responded to? Or is she staring off into space, leaving him waiting for a response as his inner thoughts, feelings, desires, _whatever_ play out in her head?

 _Yeah, I can't stand_ _  
_ _No runnin' around_

It’s his voice that draws another shiver out of her, powerful in a way Zoey would have never associated with him before her ability as he hits the climax of the song. He is _captivating_ , another word that she wouldn’t have associated with him before now. She’s turned her head to watch him now, attention fully on him as he dances around the opposite end of the conference table. Somehow, his eyes never leave hers as he moves, and it’s almost like they’re right back to where they started. Him, too close — a temptation, drawing her in like a moth to a flame. Her, enamored — certainly _bewitched_ (pun intended) by the heart song, but wary of letting herself get too close.

Her power was taking care of that for her, anyway.

 _I can't stand_ _  
_ _Don’t put me down_

There’s a subtle shift to the choreography now, where the movements go from being _vaguely_ seductive to being _overtly_ so. Each step in time with the music is purposeful, the eye contact he makes with her is filled with unbridled desire, and then he’s in front of her by the glass of the conference room walls, throwing his hips to music only she can hear and giving her _that look_. A look she’s never been on the receiving end of from _Leif_ before this moment. Like he _wants_ her. _Really wants her_.

It isn’t _real_ , but it is _true_. If he’s singing it, then he means it, and that’s a can of worms she did not expect to be unpacking on a late night at the office with Leif. _Leif!_

_I put a spell on you_

The song feels like it’s winding down to a close as Leif dances back to where he’d started the number, a familiar pattern with songs where no time passed at all (at least she wouldn’t have to explain why she’d zoned out for over a minute to him — Zoey isn’t sure she could find the words if she had to), but whatever purpose it’s meant to serve clearly isn’t over yet. Leif reaches out across the table to brush an errant strand of hair back, and her breath catches. _Literally_. **_Catches_**. Whatever desire she’d seen ( _is seeing_ ) in his face is almost certainly mirrored on hers, and it would be embarrassing how quickly she’s fallen under his spell if she didn’t have the added perk of this not _really_ happening right now.

 _Time to get yourself together, Clarke_.

_Because you're mine_

She tries to compose herself as he finishes the heart song so that when things snap back to reality, she’s not the flustered mess he’s turned her into with his voice and his dancing and everything else he’d done in that performance. It helps that he has to take his gaze off of her for it. She isn’t sure she could shake off whatever had gotten into her _at all_ with him staring at her like she’s some piece of meat. Or some fancy new update or expansion or _whatever it was_ on Better World.

Zoey isn’t sure she succeeds, though, because as her musical world snaps back to reality, there’s a _definite_ shift in Leif’s expression. Like he _knows_ the effect he’s had on her, even though he can’t know the reason for it.

“And I just think that there's something... _special_ here.” Is she reading into this or did he just emphasize the word ‘ _special?_ ’ “Something that could go all the way.”

Okay, so she’s _definitely_ not reading into it. There was _definite_ emphasis. And also _definite_ innuendo too, which was something to unpack later. _Much later_. 

“Well, then, that’s something that _definitely_ shouldn’t happen,” she says, and without realizing it she steps around the conference table to meet Leif.

“And yet, it seems inevitable,” he replies. His expression is unreadable again, but the choice to call _this_ , this… _whatever_ is happening between them ‘ _inevitable_ ’ makes her pause.

 _Is that really what he thinks?_ That something happening between the two of them — two people who, on a good day, could _barely_ stand each other and had only _just_ started to be something even _remotely_ resembling _friendly_ — is _inevitable_? Or is it just some line that he's feeding her as part of whatever the hell it is he had planned?

Either way, it's _working_ , which is a _terrifying_ thought.

“It’s a terrible idea,” she counters, not elaborating but buying herself time to try and think up reasons _why_.

“You’re absolutely right,” he agrees, but the look on his face is still unreadable, and as he steps even further into her personal space, she’s made starkly aware of just how _large_ the height difference between them is. She has to crane her neck to even _try_ to maintain eye contact with him, but she won’t back down from the perceived challenge.

“I’m in a position of power over you.” _The boss card_. God, is that _really_ the best argument against this that she can come up with? “It's unprofessional. If anyone ever finds out it's going to be an HR _**nightmare**_ _..._ ”

So apparently, it _is_ the only argument she has. At least until she figures out a way of articulating ‘ _Sure, you’re attractive objectively speaking, but you also infuriate me, and I’m pretty sure you’re up to something and aren’t in it for the right reasons_ ’ without giving him the wrong impression. Why would she even _want_ him to be in it for the right reasons?

“I couldn’t agree more.”

She wants to call bullshit. If he agreed, he wouldn’t have called her ‘ _beautiful_ ’ or them ‘ _inevitable_ ’ or sung that heart song to her. (That heart song that she _still_ doesn’t fully understand. That she isn’t sure she’ll ever be _able_ to understand because thinking about it makes thinking hard in general.) But doing that will also undoubtedly make the situation more complicated than it already is, so she settles for a nod instead.

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

There’s a long pause where one or both of them should do _something_ , say _something_. They could leave or go back to working on the Chirp or… or _something_. Instead, they both just stand there, staring at each other like it’s some kind of stand-off until Zoey isn’t sure _who_ makes the first move, but one second they’re still knee-deep in intense eye contact, and the next they’re both kissing each other like their lives depend on it.

It’s awkward at first. Their lips clash and their noses smush uncomfortably and even standing on her tiptoes, Zoey can barely reach him. Soon enough, they start to find their footing, kisses not quite as clumsy as they figure out how to move with one another. When she feels Leif’s grip shift from her lower back to her upper thighs and _lift_ she gives a little hop to help him along, wrapping her legs around his waist as he positions her on top of the conference table.

_Much better._

He’s deceptively strong if their repositioning is any indicator, and she gives in to the temptation to feel it for herself, one hand moving to his bicep and the other to his chest, gripping the cardigan to tug him closer. _She should probably feel guilty about it_. Knowing Leif, it’s expensive and delicate and under any other circumstances, he’d probably be mad at her for it.

 _If he’s mad at her now, she’ll just kiss him ‘til he forgets_.

It’s much easier to do that now that the height difference between them is only a _few inches_ and not a full _foot_ . Much easier to catalog and react to all the tricks he pulls from his sleeve now that she’s not straining to simply _reach_ him. (And _man_ , Leif sure seems to have a _lot_ of them. She hasn’t thought about kissing him ~~much~~ , but he’s _excellent_ at it — a compliment that Zoey has no doubts would go _right_ to his ego if she were to ever voice it aloud.)

In a way, she’s kissing him so that _she_ can forget too — forget what an absolutely awful, terrible, no-good, _bad_ idea this is. _She’s his boss. He’s her workplace nemesis. They could both get into so much trouble for this._ Leif’s lips and tongue are a remarkably effective distraction, though. He kisses her with a singular focus she’s only ever seen directed at coding, drawing out involuntary moans that get muffled against his mouth without ever even getting _near_ her guaranteed weak spot — her neck. If he ever actually _kisses_ her neck, she might short-circuit.

He breaks away from her unexpectedly, drawing out a disappointed whimper that’s lost in a cacophony of shared, panted breaths, and she chases after him instinctively, grabbing for the back of his neck again to pull him in.

Surprisingly (or maybe _not_ surprisingly, given that it’s the natural progression for what they’re doing), she’s the one to break away from his lips this time, only instead of pulling away completely, she starts trailing her kisses down, seeking out _his_ weak spots before he can try to exploit _hers_. At least, that’s what she tells herself to justify the rush she gets when she succeeds, and she’s graced with a low, deep-throated rumble that she can feel against her lips after scraping her teeth over his Adam’s apple. _Jackpot_.

She wants to find _more_. Wants to peel away his blue cardigan and his patterned tie and his _unusually_ plain button-up shirt to see if the junction where his neck meets his shoulder is just as sensitive and then kiss even more of him just because she _can_ . If this _is_ part of some grand, master plan, then he’s playing her like a fiddle without even having to _try_ because she’s making all the first moves now. Kissing his neck to satisfy her curiosity. Fiddling with his tie when it’s not enough. Pulling him closer with her legs hooked around his waist because for some reason, it starts to feel like there’s _too much_ distance between them, only—

_Whoa there. Wait a minute. Flag on the play. Slow your roll, there, buddy._

Zoey jerks away from Leif abruptly, hands retreating to her sides, and as she pulls back to take in his current state — his hair’s an absolute mess, his lips are kiss swollen (she’s sure hers must be too), there are a handful of red patches on his neck where she’d gotten a bit carried away trying to draw out another throaty moan from him, and further down he’s… _yep!_ nothing ambiguous there thanks to his stupidly fashionable, stupidly _well-tailored_ pants — she also notices that he doesn’t even have the decency to look even a _little_ bit embarrassed. Just _smug_ and _self-satisfied_ and some other equally irritating quality that’s _annoying_ and not _sexy_.

Okay, so maybe it’s a _little_ bit sexy, but he’s gotten enough of an ego boost from her already, so she’s not going to admit it _out loud_.

“Wait, wait, wait,” she starts, bracing her hands back against Leif’s chest. (To push him away or to pull him in again? _She isn’t sure._ ) “ _What are we doing?_ ”

When Zoey looks up to find a playful glint in his eyes, she knows she’s made a mistake. Putting the brakes on this (if that’s even what she _wants_ ) isn’t going to be easy now that he knows the attraction is mutual. It really might as well be…

“The _inevitable_ ,” he replies, leaning in again, and this time, Zoey _knows_ she’s the one to close the distance between them because he _stops_ inches away from her with that stupidly smug grin on his face, _waiting_ for her to make the next move. She _knows_ she shouldn’t. _This is a bad idea_. But while his clear and (a quick, subtle glance down — _yep!_ ) definitely **_not_** gone erection may have been a bucket of ice-cold water, snapping her out of the moment, his thumbs rubbing small, continuous circles on her inner thighs ( _has he been doing that this whole time?_ ) are firing her back up again, making him seem like a _really good bad idea_.

It really shouldn’t come as any surprise that he turns the tables on her yet again, pulling out that low, throaty rumble she’d so desperately sought earlier as he says “ _Zoey…_ ” and she’s a _goner_. Her hands fist into his cardigan and pull him in the rest of the way in one swift move, crashing their lips together in a kiss that’s instantly reciprocated.

What that they’re doing might be inevitable. It might also be a huge mistake. In all the uncertainty, there’s only _one_ thing she knows for sure.

She’s _never_ going to be able to look at this conference table the same way again.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [Tumblr!](https://leifdonnellys.tumblr.com/)
> 
> BTW, comments give me serotonin. As do kudos. ❤


End file.
